


One Truth and Many Lies

by ariel2me



Series: London Spy [1]
Category: London Spy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: He loves Danny. That has never been a lie.





	One Truth and Many Lies

> _Danny: So … you thought, stranger, seduction. Not that I’m presuming you’re seduced by me. That’s a … process ongoing. Errm … what was I saying? Yeah … so you thought, our meeting was part of a set-up. (London Spy, episode 1)_

In spy novels, they call it a “honey-trap.” When Alex was being trained to be an intelligence officer, the terms used most often were “blackmail” and “putting yourself in a compromising position.”

“You should be especially wary of meet-cute scenarios and situations,” one of the instructors had warned. This one was younger than the others, relatively youthful at forty-plus, relatively modern in his outlook compared to the other instructors, and often strained too hard to bond with the new recruits, hence his use of the term “meet-cute.” 

“What is meet-cute?” Alex had asked, in all sincerity. He could feel the whole room turning as one to stare at him, could sense his fellow recruits regarding his ignorance with incredulity, and, worst of all, with pity.  

*

Alex. He thinks of himself as Alex, not Alistair, the name he hates, even though Alistair is the name by which he exists legally in the world, the name Frances had insisted on.  _Why Alistair?_   _Who was Alistair? An old boyfriend? The man with a first-rate mind you thought you should have married instead of Charles with his second-rate mind? A child you had – a son from your own womb, unlike me – who died before I existed?_  He never had the courage to ask her any of those questions. No, that was not completely accurate; it was not really a question of courage, or the lack of it. Rather, he did not think that it was his place to ask her any of those questions.

And so, does it count as a lie, telling Danny, “My name is Alex,” in reply to the question, “Can you tell me what your real name is?”

Half a lie, and thus, half-forgivable. Or half-unforgivable, depending on your point of view. The mathematician in him, the worshipper at the altar of logic, recoils at such a notion, but the lying partner, the remorseful lover, finds temporary comfort in that half-measure.  

*

> _Danny: So you thought, our meeting was part of a set-up. It’s fine, it’s fun. I just … I thought you said I was easy to read._
> 
> _Alex: That would have been the reason you were selected. The appearance of innocence._
> 
> _(London Spy, episode 1)_

He had distrusted this at first, of course. He had distrusted what he thought of as Danny’s  _appearance_  of innocence: the way Danny’s face seems to reveal all and every thought that flits through his mind without any filter, the way his sentences would trail off into silence before picking up again, disclosing his thought processes as clearly as if he had emblazoned them on a billboard. Surely no one could truly be this guileless, this transparent, this easy to read? Surely no one could survive for long in this world while lacking a protective coating, lacking a second skin to guard him from the invasive eyes and the pervasive judgment of others? Surely no one would choose, willingly, to be this open, this  _exposed,_ unless he is playing a part, the part of a naïve and sentimental lover perhaps?

How could Alex not distrust this, before Danny labors to show him how to trust? He had been trained to distrust as a way of life, as a way of  _being_ , not just by his formal training as a spy, but long before that, by the woman who calls herself his mother, who taught him and still teaches him that the only thing that could be trusted in this world is the brilliance of their own minds – his, and especially hers.  

*

For all her brilliance, in this particular instance, Frances’ logic is deeply flawed. If, as she claims, the point of having a child is to redeem herself, to prove and flaunt her brilliance that had been so cruelly denied and ignored by those crusty old men in the British intelligence, in the spy establishment, then surely it would have made more sense to adopt a daughter, not a son. An Alexa, not an Alex, someone she could rename and then recreate in her own image as Alice, not as Alistair. That would have been more fitting, more truthful in its logical symmetry.  _Look at my daughter. Look at this woman, this perfect spy I have trained and created. I, the woman with a first-rate mind you ignored in favor of my husband, the man with a second-rate mind._

Though, Alex would not wish his life under Frances’ tutelage on any Alexa, or on any other Alex for that matter. He had suffered too much to want others to suffer in the same way.  

*  

Loves Frances:  **LIE**

*

It is not a machine to end all lies. That is a ridiculous and sentimental notion. No machine could ever do this. It is an algorithm that could, theoretically, identify all lies, but no doubt many would choose to lie still, even knowing that such a thing exists in this world.

*

What is it that he so desperately wants to tell Danny, with this creation from his first-rate mind, his often-touted brilliance?  _I lied to you, yes, I lied to you over and over again, with every conversation, with every kiss, with every touch, with every moment of intimacy, with every secret you entrusted to me without me reciprocating any secret of my own. I lied to you about who I am, about what I am, about what I do for a living, about where I come from, about my mother being dead, and on, and on, and on, but this one thing … this one thing has never been a lie._

*

Loves Danny:  **TRUTH**

*

He loves Danny. That has never been a lie.

For most of his life, Alex has been trained to distrust, and even as he is learning, slowly, to trust the man he loves, and to trust love itself, he does not believe that after all the many lies he has told, the truth of his love would be believable to Danny without an algorithm to prove it beyond a doubt.


End file.
